


So Overdue I Owe Them

by rayvanfox



Series: Let the Sky Fall [7]
Category: James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvanfox/pseuds/rayvanfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My post-mission energy is always a bit excitable and unpredictable --ruled by instinct and reflexes, channeling the id more than is advisable -- so I wasn’t all that surprised when I found myself following him into the loo my first day back. Yes, at work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Overdue I Owe Them

After our late night cuppa, Q backed off. Hard. It didn’t really surprise me after the trainwreck that was the end of our interaction, but it was frustrating. And of course I then went on three tough missions in quick succession with him in my ear.

Our working relationship was like clockwork, as always, but not even a smile, let alone an innuendo, traversed the airspace from him to me. I had gotten so accustomed to our banter that when it was revoked I missed it enough to feel off balance. I attempted flattery, jocularity, subtle flirting, even blatant come ons, anything to restore us to our previous intimacy. Nothing came back to me but that calm, professional voice that sighed like a stiletto between ribs when piqued. That or silence. Dead air. Which made me nervous. And caused me to lose focus. Nearly got me killed.

Needless to say, I came back to London a tad worked up and wanting to reestablish the easy intimacy we’d had before. My post-mission energy is always a bit excitable and unpredictable - ruled by reflexes and instinct, channeling the id more than is advisable - so I wasn’t all that surprised when I found myself following him into the loo my first day back. Yes, at work. It was the gents’ at the far side of the Q branch wing - off the beaten path and with a lock on the door. Not the smartest move I could have made, but the only one I was in any shape for at the moment. My patience was gone, stripped of me during those dry and barren mission interactions. It was time to slake my thirst.

I slipped inside behind him and silently finessed the lock into place, then, just as he finished unzipping himself, I came right up behind him at the urinal, my front nearly flush with his back, and put my hands on his shoulders, close in to his neck. He barely flinched at the contact. I then reached my lips right up to brush the shell of his ear.

“I’ve missed you, Q. Even on comms. Where have you been?”

“Waiting for the right moment.”

I was surprised by his statement, though I shouldn’t have been. The thought that he might have wanted me to find him alone somewhere like this got me hard. “Good. Now that it’s here, let’s get reacquainted.” I smoothed my hands across his shoulders and down his arms to his elbows, then back up and around to rest just above his shoulder blades.

“By all means. That was the plan.” He leaned back against me so I moved my hands down his sides and pressed my hips against him, the shift in angle causing friction right where I wanted it.

I purred in his ear at the pleasure it brought. “Plan?”

“You can’t seriously believe I didn’t have a plan...?”

“Well, I -”  He grabbed hold of one of my wrists and spun around in my arms to grab the other as well. He held them in place at the small of his back, fairly pushing my hands against the rise of his arse. Our faces were six inches apart and I watched his eyes as he purposefully canted his hips forward until they met mine. The spark in them meant he was watching my pupils blow wide at the feel of him pressing up against me. I felt my pulse rise in my throat and I followed his eyes as they took in the sight of it as well.  A self-satisfied grin cracked open his mouth and for a second I thought it was a trap.

I stepped back until he had to step forward or break his hold on my wrists. He chose the latter option and watched me closely. He leaned his back against the wall between urinals with his arms crossed, which hiked his jumper up over the waistband of his trousers.

I defaulted to parade rest and he clocked my unease, licking his lips and assessing our next possible moves. I’d wanted to end the chess game with my last move and here it was still staring me in the face. Check, not mate.

“So, this plan...tell me what you want, Q.”

“Your mouth.”

He looked pointedly down and I saw his undone button and flies, with bright blue pants peeking out from beneath the grey wool. I was distracted from the fact that he’d spoken his desire out loud, effectively proving this wasn’t a trap, by the realisation that I was looking at a sizeable bulge. I swallowed. He chuckled.

“On your knees, 007.” I raised my eyes to his face and it was set hard with only a twinkling of amusement at the corners of his eyes and mouth. I wanted to wipe the look off his face, though I wasn’t sure if I would use my mouth or my fist. He watched me stonily, and as he did so, he hitched his arms slightly higher on his torso, which pulled his jumper up just enough to show his hip bones, narrow and winglike, handles I itched to grab hold of.  He tilted his head over to one side and cracked his long, graceful neck, making the tendons stand out, and rolled his thin shoulders, one then the other, which made his narrow, pointed hips follow, one, then the other.

I licked my lips and dropped to my knees. I am not above worshipping at an altar this beautiful, not by a long shot. Though I’m not accustomed to being commanded to do so. I swallowed once again, getting at least half of my pride and all of my suspicion down in one go, which was easy once I gave myself over to how incredibly enticing the figure before me really was.

He braced his feet slightly, but otherwise did nothing to change his stance: his head and shoulders against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his hips canted forward towards me. It was a challenge. One I was more than willing to accept. I have enough faith in my abilities that he wasn’t going to see me quail, nor was he going to be disappointed.

I placed my hands on his thighs and ran them up over his hips, under his jumper and over his bare stomach as far as his crossed arms would let me. Then I dragged them back down to the waistband of his pants, which I hooked my fingertips under and pulled down until I’d freed just the head of his cock. I palmed the shaft, still encased in fabric, trailing my fingers down the sides to the root, and then cupped his bollocks as I put my mouth over the head. And by ‘over’ I mean hovering, open, just slightly above it, breathing onto it, but not touching.

He took a deep breath in through his nose and held it. I didn’t move. Not until he started to let the air out of his lungs as slowly and quietly as he could. I caught the moment he did so, and reveled in it.

I grabbed hold of the band of his trousers and slid them off over his perky, round little arse, then took a blue-covered cheek in each hand as I ever-so-slowly lowered my tongue to brush the exposed end of his cock. Just the tip of my tongue against the slit and the very tip of the head. A very faint shiver rewarded my ministrations and I couldn’t help but smile. I did not, however, try to make eye contact. That was for later.

My mouth had been watering, so my tongue was nice and wet, leaving a slick of saliva behind on his sensitive skin. I blew cool air onto it. A slight intake of breath met that action and before he could let it out again the flat of my hot tongue laved the underside of the head, then circled round the glans twice to wet the whole thing. The beginning of a grunt escaped, but he swallowed the rest of it as my hands slid to his hips and pulled his pants down far enough to free him completely, back and front. I wanted his bare arse just as much as his full (very full, very hard) cock to play with.

Well, almost as much. Because I had no idea how pretty he would be. A goodly length, a nice heft, a gentle curve, a gorgeous blush. I chanced an arrow-swift glance up at him and his smirk had gone wide, but his eyes behind those glasses were big and dark and laser focused. Also, his cheeks were almost as pink as his prick. Pretty. So very pretty.

It’s possible my lips shaped that word as I decided how I wanted to consume him - nibbling, in long sips, or swallowing him whole. I decided on alternating the first two until his thighs were quivering, then surprising him with the third and a stroke of his bollocks at the same time. That got a moan out of him, tight-lipped as he was. My throat worked his head as my hands kneaded his arse, pulling the cheeks apart, inching a finger near, but only near, his entrance.

I came up for breath with a tongue swirl around the glans, my pursed lips and the barest edge of my teeth dragging over the head as I pulled off. He was breathing hard by now. I watched his face twitch as I trailed one finger down his crack, pressing over his arsehole and perineum without stopping, along the very centerline of his scrotum, and dragging up the shaft to the frenulum. He looked in pain, forehead creased, eyes shut, mouth open, neck stretched. I had to make myself stay on my knees and not attack his throat with my teeth.

I did refrain, however, and watched every muscle of his face ease as I grasped the length of him with a hand I’d licked wet to match the slickness I’d left with my mouth. I watched the tension around his eyes until I’d found the right amount of tightness for his liking, then I pumped up and down a couple times before adding my mouth and sucking on him like a lolly. The head fit well against the roof of my mouth, and my tongue was remembering how pleasurable the velvety feel of well-moistened glans tissue can be.

The tightness of my hand and the suction of my mouth were all he needed at this point, which is why I’d been denying him so far. Once he got them both, and in rhythm, he couldn’t keep his hips from bucking at me. I braced myself against his pelvis and redoubled my efforts, all the while tracing one finger around his hole. The combination of sensations extracted a soft, huffing moan from him with every breath, timed to every pull of my hand, every push of his hips. It didn’t take long once I was in earnest to send him over the edge.

He grabbed hold of my ears and thrust hard into my mouth, filling it as he moaned and shuddered through his orgasm, throwing his head back and forth, biting his lip so it looked like it hurt.

I swallowed as best I could (I hadn’t forgotten what that was like, but it had been a while, and somehow it’s always surprising) while watching him as much as I was able under the circumstances. I wasn’t going to miss seeing any bit of him coming if I could help it. The moment when someone is fully under the influence of their body’s reaction like that is fucking brilliant. Knowing I’ve made someone lose control in that way, it’s heady. Electrifying. Makes me rock hard, to be honest.

I watched him fall apart, watched his body lose control of its movement, and then of its ability to stand. But I wasn’t done with him yet. Now he was putty in my hands and I wanted to play with him a bit. I wasn’t trying to get back at him in any way, I was a willing participant in this affair. I didn’t even care that he gave me no warning before coming in my mouth. (I actually sort of liked that, the roughness of it.) I just wanted to make sure he understood that just because I was on my knees didn’t mean I was without some measure of control.

I hadn’t let go of him yet, with either my hand or my mouth, and I’d kept a light rhythm going throughout his release, which I didn’t leave off doing even as he sighed and came back to himself. Just about the time when he could open his eyes again, I pressed his bum up against the tiled wall with my free hand, squeezed a little tighter with the other, and resumed a light suction with my mouth. His sigh turned into a whimper. I hummed. He whined. I backed off on sensation to the head and licked him up and down, reslicked my hand so the friction on the shaft was minimal, then nosed and lipped his scrotum, mouthing the base of him. As much as his voice was filled with sounds like protestations, he parted his legs further for me to reach his perineum with my tongue.

“Booond...”

“Hmm...?”

“Wait a sec - I can’t... I ...”

“What is it, Q?”

“Oh, God. What are you - please...”

“Please, what, luv?”

“Fuck. Please -”

“Please continue stroking your bollocks? Certainly. Please bring you back to full hardness in record time? Don’t mind if I do.”

“Ah, Ah -”

I stilled completely for a moment. “Or, ‘Please James, let me go, I promise to behave, just don’t touch me anymore.’ Hm? Is that it?”

“ _No_ , not that. I -” He huffed a hard breath when my lips brushed the tip of his cock, ever so lightly. He was still very sensitive. “I need you to -”

“What do you need from me, pet?”

“Hnnng, oh, that’s not fair.”

“No such thing. And I’d been neglecting this part of you for some time.” The slicked wet tip of my little finger was pressed against his hole, not enough to enter, but damned close. My lips were ghosting up and down the length of his cock, alternating kisses and licks as they went.

“Hah - oh... aah, fuck you.”

“I hope you will.”

His eyes flew open at that.

“You mean that?” His voice was strained sharp.

“Every bit of it.”

“Ffffuck.”

I smiled. And waited until he’d finished speaking to push in until he opened for the very tip of my finger.

“What is it you needed from me, darling?”

“Unmph.” I twisted my finger. “Oh God. That.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t tease me, Bond. I will have you killed.”

“Ah-ah-ah, be nice, sweetheart. If you aren’t, I might just stop.”

“Fuck off.” My tongue was stroking, hot and wet, up the shaft of his cock when he spoke. I pulled it away. He stiffened. “On. Not off. Carry on.” I continued my path up to his head and he relaxed. That's when I pushed in to the first knuckle. “Oh God, yes. Just like that.”

“So chatty, all of a sudden, Q-baby.”

“Nnngg - not a baby. Hahh.” I wasn’t sure if his breathing problems were due to my finger or my hand, one twisting for room, the other stroking for hardness. Both were succeeding, so it was a toss-up.

“No, truth. You are not. But verbose, nonetheless.”

“Speaking of verbose, isn’t there something better you could be doing with that mouth?”

“Ha. Yes, sir.” I reached to engulf him with my mouth once again, but his fingers caught in my hair and pulled me back to look at his face. It was sharp and bright, so focused he verged on looking angry.

“Say that again.” His voice was as hard as his jaw.

I winced only to the point of smiling at the pain, not wanting to show weakness at his rough handling, especially since I was enjoying it.

“Yes _sir_.” Saying it a second time, I gave it the emphasis it deserved. His eyes went wide. I pushed a bit further into him and curled my finger. He let out a tiny gasp. That was close. I raised one eyebrow, then winked and ducked my head to tongue his cock. He could take having attention given to the head again, so I lavished it on him, stroking my hand along the length as well, bringing him back to full hardness and building his arousal as I continued to press and twist inside of him.

There was one moment when I got the timing, pressure, and pace of both hands and mouth just right, and his knees gave slightly as he groaned deep and long. He was close once again, and struggling to stay upright. Mostly because he wanted to be bearing down on my finger, but his stance wasn’t quite allowing it. And I wasn’t allowing him to change it. Almost purely because he would have simply sat down and I didn’t want either of us to have that close contact with the gent’s room floor. Not to mention how much I enjoyed watching his legs shake.

Soon he was breathing hard and every breath out had a low whine in it. I pumped him hard a couple times, then sucked him deep, as my wrist pressed against his bollocks and my finger curled to just barely brush his prostate.

The last whine turned into a groan, then into an elongated ‘ooohh’, and ended with a jagged and hoarse ‘ff-f-f-u-uck’, as he came into my mouth hard and hot, his arse clenched tight around my finger, his body and head rocking uncontrollably back and forth as he juddered slowly to a halt. His voice gave out before his throat was finished emptying itself of air, and when done, his lungs paused as if spasming, unable to take anything in for a moment. His mouth was open, his throat stretched as if everything ached inside, and when he finally breathed again, a sob crossed his lips.  

That was when I started to pull off and pull out, gently, slowly. I didn’t let go of the shaft of his cock though, I wasn’t sure whether he would feel bereft if I left him all at once.

He was a mess. I’d taken him completely apart and I honestly wasn’t sure how to help put him back together. So I waited until he could breathe again, had wiped his hands down his face, and was prepared to look at me. Then I oh-so-gently kissed him just below the frenulum, and took my hand away as I put his pants in place and raised his trousers. I then pulled at the backs of his knees and slowly guided him down the wall to join me on the floor.

Throughout this, his eyes never left my face. I could feel his gaze, but I didn’t catch hold of it until he was seated, his head lolled back against the wall, a sheepish smile on his face. My grin was the opposite of self-satisfied, simply warm and engaged without being intrusive (I hoped). He chuckled, low and in a mildly self-deprecating way. I grinned at his good humor. He reached for - fairly flapped at - me with one hand, grabbing and patting my knee in what I assumed was a ‘thank you/sorry’ gesture. I took his hand in mine and brought it to my swollen lips. First the knuckles, then the palm.

“The pleasure was all mine.”

“How dare you say such a thing? Do _not_ rob me of the most pleasure I’ve had all at once, possibly ever, let alone more than I’ve been given in the past year put together. You twat." I raised my eyebrows in playful challenge. "Yes, yes, take the piss, I don't care. You've wrecked me and I'll admit it. Along with admitting how very good you were at doing so." I chuckled. "Fuck you, Bond."

“I -”

“You hope I do. Yes, well. Maybe, if you’re lucky. Someday. But not today.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked sternly at me. “So go take care of yourself, because there is nothing I can do to help you with _that_ right now.” He waved towards my crotch, where my erection was still tenting my trousers. I smirked. He let his commanding face relax into a smile that reached the point of showing his teeth. He closed his eyes and finally caught his breath and composed his face, then opened them calmly with a small, slow, sweet smile.

“Well, Mr. Bond. That was a pleasant break from coding. Now, either let me watch you come, or let me go back to work." 

I’m pretty sure I gawped at him for just a moment. He made his eyes go wide in imitation of mine, but kept the smile just as small and sweet as before. I swallowed. He noticed.

“I, erm... I don’t think -”

“If you end that statement with ‘that would be appropriate’ I will laugh in your face and never speak to you again.” His face was still mild but there was an edge of true threat behind his eyes and in his voice. The tiny waver I heard meant the threat was based in fear, not anger.

“I would never. I was going to say I don’t think I can perform like that in front of an audience.” I could feel the flush rising from under my collar (Damn it to hell).

“You have shown your prick to countless women, more than half of whom you couldn’t be bothered to remember the names of, and you are made uncomfortable by the idea of exposing yourself to me? Whom you have just reduced to, well, _this_?” He gestured to his disheveled clothes, his flushed face. “Please spare me -”

“I have shown my prick to countless nameless men as well, but all of those people, whatever their gender, were _interacting_ with me - and it - not just sitting there with their arms crossed, judging me.”

I got up and turned from him to wash my hands. After a moment, he stood up and leaned against the wall again, watching me in the mirror.

“So it’s stage fright. Either that, or mine’s bigger than yours.”

“It’s prettier, I’ll admit that. But you were right the first time, sort of. It’s just that I’ve never been much into voyeurism.”

“What if I interacted without getting my hands dirty, so to speak? You know, talked you through it?” He uncrossed his arms and took a couple steps toward me.

“I don’t need your instructions on how to toss off, Q.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Guided imagery?”

“Warmer...” He grinned as he kept advancing towards me. I kept tabs on his movement in the mirror.

“You are so certain of your dirty talk, you think your voice and my hand would have me -”

“Yes.” And then he was standing just behind me and to the right, staring into my eyes in the mirror. I noticed he is just barely shorter than I am.

“No.” His mouth dropped open slightly at my word. “Not that you can’t, but that I won’t.”

“Control freak, are we?”

“Not _this_ ‘we’." I pointed to myself. "Not sure about you, though. It’s just that you won’t get what you want by taunting me. Play smarter, Q.”

He frowned through my whole response, but at my last sentence, his face set. “You’re no fun to play with.”

“I know for a fact you haven’t found that to be true. I just rinsed the evidence out of my mouth a moment ago.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be crass, Bond.”

“Don’t be juvenile, Q.”

“Don’t be obvious, 007.” He sneered at me in the mirror.

I turned to look him in the face. “Hang on. Don’t be cross, luv. Come here.” I reached to touch his cheek. He backed off a step. I closed the distance, but didn’t touch him. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “May I kiss you?”

He let out a short laugh. “You have to ask, after what we just -”

“Yes. Some blokes don’t like kissing the men they get off with in the lav.” His lips pressed tightly together. “But mostly I asked because you are upset with me. And I’m not trying to force you to forgive me for being a git.” I finally caught his eye and smiled. “I just want to kiss you.” His eyes widened but his mouth was still tight. “Take it as an apology?”

When he opened his mouth to speak his lips were a deep red. “No. The first time you kiss someone should not be an apology. I’ll take it as something else.”

“A promise.”

“Of...?”

“More to come. If you are interested.” I brushed my knuckles down his arm.

“Mildly intrigued.” His smirk was snarkless and endearing.

“Good enough for me.” I leaned in to kiss him sweetly on that sweet mouth of his, and almost immediately he opened his lips to give me access inside. I dipped my tongue in to coax his out and we chased each other around a bit, our lips and teeth joining in the capturing. He was soft but not yielding, and he tasted slightly floral and somewhat metallic. (Of course, Earl Grey. And... blood? Did he bite his lip too hard earlier?) The combination was heady, especially when adding in the incredible heat of his lips and mouth. I wanted that soft heat all down my body.

(Later. Patience.)

When I caught his bottom lip not too lightly in my teeth, his moan had a whimper in it. He pulled away to get it out of my grasp, my teeth dragging a bit across the thickest part of flesh.

“No-ho-hoh, stop. I won’t be able to go back to work without touching at least some part of you unless you stop right now. And I need to. Go back to work. Because I have a mountain of it that _your_ negligence with _my_ equipment has made. Soo...” He pressed his hand flat against my chest and took a deliberate step back, then trailed his fingers down the front of my shirt until they reached the waistband of my trousers. Then they flicked off. The vibration in the fabric stirred my neglected cock. I winced. He grinned (the beautiful bastard). “Here. Make me a present. It’ll be encrypted, there is no danger of it falling into the wrong hands.”

He handed me what looked like a key fob on an empty ring, looked at me with that small smile in place, then turned and walked out, locking the door behind him.

I frowned at the object until I clicked it and a tiny lens cap slid open. It was a micro video camera. Then I smiled. Chuckled, even. And went into a stall to make a recording, as I was in dire need by then.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is the scene that started off the whole rp. i wrote this more than a year ago and it got bean excited to co-write the dynamic between Bond and Q. and voila, everything else in this series was inspired by a blowjob in a bathroom.


End file.
